


all the styrofoam began to melt away

by tardigradeschool



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crew as Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Temporary Character Death, don't worry angus is never hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-02 23:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13328487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardigradeschool/pseuds/tardigradeschool
Summary: For most people, the titular story and song of the Day of Story and Song are blurry. They remember the important parts: the big victories, the big losses, and the time Lup and Taako shaved off half of Davenport’s mustache.Angus remembers it all. He knows that sleep is important for growing boys, but he thinks that not seeing some of the most important people in his life die over and over might be important too.





	all the styrofoam began to melt away

**Author's Note:**

> title from regina spektor's "on the radio", a song about love and trust and starting over. i've continued my streak of using the "sharing a bed" tag in almost every piece
> 
> possible tw: 1) angus has a couple panic attack - type things 2) lotta stolen century death

Angus McDonald tries to always, always be glad of what he has. He was raised to take note of his assets more than anything else; one needs to know what they have before they know what they can do.

A good detective has a good memory. Angus, the best detective, has a flawless memory. Every image, every word, is preserved in his brain. The key to solving a puzzle, Angus thinks, is to have all the pieces. His memory helps with that.

For most people, the titular story and song of the Day of Story and Song are blurry. They remember the important parts: the big victories, the big losses, and the time Lup and Taako shaved off half of Davenport’s mustache. 

Angus remembers it all. 

 

Taako is on the ground, and he is dead. One of his legs is twisted at the wrong angle, broken in two places. Despite the slackness of his face, his head is thrown back proudly, furiously -- though it has fallen to the side. His wand lies loose in his hand.

Angus cannot breathe. Sound burns in his ears. The battle is still going, half a mile away. He stumbles forward, involuntarily, his body not his own, his heart punching against the inside of his ribs. Angus doesn’t want to touch Taako, but he reaches out anyway, smooths the hair off his forehead so none of the blood from the scrape on his temple will get on it. Angus’s hands are not his hands.

“Lucretia!” someone bellows behind him. Angus’s head snaps up. Magnus is in bad shape too, bleeding from a slash across his shoulder, but he’s still upright, holding the hilt end of a sword that’s been snapped in half. “We have to go, before they organize enough to follow us back to -- oh god, is he --?”

“He’s gone,” Angus says, in a voice much deeper than his own. “That fucking warlock demolished his hit points, Magnus, he’s gone.”

“Fuck,” Magnus says, striding forward to stand over Angus. He’s shaking, either from grief or exhaustion. “Fuck!” He hurls his broken sword at the ground beside him. “Fuck this fucking plane!”

“Magnus!” Angus snaps, much more harshly than he ever would. “We still have to get back. Careful with your arm.” He grabs Taako’s wand from his limp hand and tucks it into his belt, catching a glimpse of long legs and leather boots that do not belong to him. When he stands, he is nearly the same height as Magnus, and as he realizes this, Magnus pulls him into a rough hug. It’s over too quickly.

“We need to go,” Angus says. “Quickly.” He doesn’t want to say it.

“You’re right,” Magnus says, surreptitiously dashing tears from his eyes. “We can’t bring him.” He lets out a short breath. “I fucking hate this, I hate--” He stops, mouth opening slightly as though he’s surprised.

“Magnus?” Angus grabs his shoulders only to realize Magnus is tilting forward and the best he can do is slow his fall. There are two arrows sticking out of the back of Magnus’s chest. Magnus ends up curled on his side, half propping himself up. Angus tries to stand, to figure out where the shot came from, but Magnus grips Angus’s upper arm too tightly for him to get up.

“They’ve brought out the archers,” he says, breathing labored. “Stay down. You’re going to have to run for it.”

“Are you crazy?” Angus demands. “I can’t just--”

“The rest of the crew won’t know to take off unless you tell them,” Magnus says. He turns his head to cough, taking his hand off of Angus’s arm. “Lucretia, listen, you have to go now. It’s okay.”

“I won’t leave you--”

“The crew needs you,” Magnus says. “Unless you’ve been getting secret healing lessons from Merle--” He coughs again. “--then you can’t do anything for me or Taako.” Another cough, deeper this time.

Angus’s eyes burn. “I’m never going to fucking forgive you for this. I’m going to write it down so everyone knows what an asshole you are.”

Magnus smiles. There’s blood on his teeth. Angus’s chest is tight, and when he turns to run, the light he’s facing hurts his eyes. He can’t feel the ache in his lungs, but he can hear his heart thundering in his ears --

\-- and Angus wakes up crying. He can’t get in enough air for it to feel like he isn’t suffocating. It’s dark. He’s in his room. It wasn’t real, he thinks as he reaches out to click on the light, relief heavy in his chest. It wasn’t real.

But it was. Lucretia’s prolific style won her awards once. Angus read the reviews for something she once ghost-wrote.  _ I felt like I was really there, _ someone marveled.

Angus knows the feeling.

Sometimes it’s just little things. Taako sprawls on the couch when he gets home from work and Angus’s brain superimposes the time he collapsed from blood loss. Barry grimaces from tasting something bad and Angus remembers when he was poisoned. Merle trips inelegantly on a shirt and Angus’s hands fly out to stop him from falling off a cliff. 

 

“Oh, it’s alright,” Merle says. He may have taken something for the pain, but his blood is starting to leak through the second bandage and Angus hurts in sympathy anyway. “If the cap’n were here he’d tell you the same.”

Angus thinks of how the captain has been looking at Merle lately and says, “I’m not sure that’s true.”

“I’m too good for this dumb plane anyway,” Merle says, almost indignant at the thought of surviving. “Besides, it’s only two weeks. You dummies can manage without me for that long, can’t’cha?”

Something catches in Angus’s throat. “I’m not sure we can,” he says, voice cracking embarrassingly. 

Merle frowns at him. “Aw, none of that,” he says. He wheezes into an open palm, then wipes the blood off on his pants without even looking. “None of that, alright? No tears over me, Lucretia. You think you can get to the next safe house before night if you leave at dawn?”

“Yes,” Angus says. “I can.”

“Good,” Merle says. “Now, I’d offer to wake you up, but, uh--” He wheezes again, but this time it’s a laugh. “The way things’re going you better set your own alarm.”

 

With a couple weeks practice, Angus learns to identify the dreams when they start. He knows what it feels like from Lucretia’s eyes, and it’s marginally easier to bear when he can separate himself from her. It’s a little bit like what he thinks lucid dreaming must be like. 

Still, he’s beginning to dread falling asleep. He knows that sleep is important for growing boys, but he thinks that not seeing some of the most important people in his life die over and over might be important too. 

 

Barry’s shoulders are shaking. His head is buried in his hands. “I can’t,” he murmurs, muffled by his palms. “I can’t do this without her -- eight more  _ fucking  _ months, Lucretia, I can’t--”

Lucretia reaches out, smooths a hand lightly down his back. Her hand has long, tapering fingers, several rings, and a large writing callus. Helplessness has formed a hard knot in her throat. “What can I do?” she asks. 

Barry forces in a shuddering breath. “Nothing,” he says. “Nothing, thank you. I don’t want to -- You should go check on Taako.”

“Merle is with Taako. But I’ll leave if you want.”

“No,” Barry says. “That’s okay. I just -- I’m not--” He makes a noise that’s almost a laugh. “I’m not going to be the best conversationalist right now.”

Lucretia politely ignores the wobble in his voice. “That’s okay. I barely talked at all the first two years, remember? And we became friends anyway.”

Barry finally picks his head up, turns to face her. “What am I supposed to do?” he asks. He’s not really talking to Lucretia. There’s something plaintive in his tone. 

Lucretia runs her fingers through Barry’s hair like he’s a child. “Manage.”

 

Taako hums as he moves down the shelves, searching for the paprika. Ren can’t be blamed for not knowing his and Lup’s complex organizational system for spices, but he’s told Angus multiple times that he wishes she would at least go the traditional alphabetical route. “Something up, Ango?”

Angus’s heels hit the legs of his stool, but he doesn’t say anything. Taako leans over to rummage through a drawer as a last resort, and finds the paprika shoved in next to the cardamom. “Good gods,” he says, “people put spices in drawers now?” He pulls out the little container and shakes it to loosen the powder. “Angus? Something wrong?”

“I’ve just,” Angus says. “I’ve been thinking.”

“That isn’t news, sweetpea, when aren’t you?” Taako sets the paprika down and leans against the counter to look at him. Angus doesn’t meet his eyes. 

“Well, I,” Angus says. He chews on his lip for a second, then blurts, “You’re different with me now, sir.”

“Different, huh?” Taako muses. 

“You are!” he says. “You don’t tease me as much anymore, and you cheered for me at my soccer game and we just spent the day together and you didn’t call me boring at all.”

“I’m sure I did,” Taako says, frowning.

“Okay, maybe once,” Angus amends. “But you didn’t sound like you meant it.”

Taako shrugs with one shoulder, turning back to his mixing bowl. “Dunno what to tell you,” he says. “Taako is as Taako does.” He turns up the fantasy radio with his free hand.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Angus says, but his chest feels warm. 

 

As he drifts off that night, he thinks,  _ I didn’t realize it was raining. _

The sound closes around him. Angus blinks, and he’s standing at the mouth of a cave, just out of the downpour. His clothes are damp. The rain is so thick that he can’t see more than a few feet from the cave.

“Fuck,” Lup says behind him. “He’s not eating it. What am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe if I hold him up?” Magnus says. “Lucretia, can you help me?”

Lucretia turns, and takes the few steps into the cave to crouch on the other side of Taako. Magnus is keeping him upright where he sits, but he’s listing to the side, barely conscious. Out of habit, Lucretia feels his forehead. He’s still burning up. 

“Taako,” Lup says. “C’mon, bro.” She’s doing a passable imitation of her annoyed voice, but the fear underneath it is unmistakable to anyone more aware than Taako. “I made this soup for you, and it’s already got your cooties in it. If you don’t eat it, we’re gonna have to throw it out.”

A cough crackles out of Taako’s throat, shaking through his whole body, and it seems to focus him.  “Okay,” he says. His voice is much lower than usual, crunching out of him like it’s painful. He extends a shaking hand for the bowl, but Lucretia takes it before he can accidentally spill it. He glares at her, the gauntness of his face exaggerated by the frown. “I can feed myself,” he croaks indignantly.

“I’m not gonna spoonfeed you,” Lucretia says, like it wasn’t exactly what she was just considering. “I’ll just hold the bowl.” 

Lucretia isn’t looking, but she can feel Lup sigh in relief beside her as Taako begins to eat. He makes it through about two thirds of the bowl, and none of them are eager to stretch their luck. If he can even keep this down, it’ll be a miracle. When he sets the spoon down, he leans his whole body back against Magnus and doesn’t budge. Lucretia sits back. The small fire on her back has dried out her clothes a little, and she’s enjoying finally being warm. 

“Magnus,” Lup says quietly, “if you want to move, that’s okay. He’s gonna be deep asleep.”

“Ah, that’s okay,” Magnus says. “I don’t mind sitting still.” 

Lup pushes herself off the ground and walks to where Lucretia was standing, looking out at the rain. Lucretia moves closer to the fire and ladles some soup into bowls for herself and Magnus, who eats his one-handed, unbothered by the arm trapped underneath Taako. Lucretia pulls out an old journal -- sketching has always helped pass the time. 

By the time she looks up, Magnus is asleep too, head resting against the side of the cave. For the millionth time, Lucretia is jealous of his ability to fall asleep anywhere. Lup is still by the edge of the cave. Lucretia fills the fourth bowl, then stands on stiff legs to bring it to her. So far from the fire, there’s no protection from the chill of the rain. 

Lup half-smiles at her when she hands her the bowl. “Thanks.”

“Can I sit?” Lucretia asks.

“Yeah,” Lup says, moving a little to make room. “Sorry I’m so--”

“You don’t have to explain,” Lucretia says. Behind them, Taako coughs in his sleep. 

Lup traces a pattern in the sand on the floor with one long finger. “He’s only gotten this sick once before,” she says. “When we were kids. That fucking sucked too.” Her voice breaks, and when Lucretia glances up at her, she’s frustratedly wiping her eyes.

“Hey,” Lucretia says. “Nine more days, right?” She doesn’t say anything about making it to a healer before the Hunger comes, because at the pace they’re traveling, that’s no guarantee. 

Lup nods. “Nine more days.” She stirs her soup. “Then another year after that.” She blinks, hard. “Sorry.”

Lucretia puts a hand on her arm. “Don’t apologize.”

 

If Magnus notices him hugging him harder than usual, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Hey, kiddo my kiddo,” he says. “You look beat.”

“I haven’t been sleeping very well,” Angus says, which isn’t a lie. 

“Aw,” Magnus says. “You should come visit me sometime. It’s easier to sleep with the dogs there. It’s like they say: it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie next to you.” 

“That sounds good, sir,” he says, before remembering that he doesn’t especially want to wake a whole house of dogs with a panic attack in the middle of the night. “But I’m really busy with schoolwork, plus my detective agency is finally taking off.”

“Oh,” Magnus says. He sounds disappointed, but Angus isn’t looking at him so it’s hard to be sure. “Well, you’re welcome whenever.”

 

“Hey!” Lup yells. There’s no one else in the room, but they’re pretty certain at this point that they’re being monitored. “If you’re gonna do this shit, at least lean into the Christ thing, you feel? If you’re gonna martyr me anyway you might as well let me move my arms down.” 

“Lup.” Angus’s voice-that-is-not-his-voice is hoarse. “Please stop antagonizing them.”

“Never,” Lup says. Her hands, bound above her head, are pulled up just far enough that only her toes touch the ground.

“You can die from being held in that position, you know,” Lucretia says. She remembers the diagrams. Not pretty. 

“That so?” Lup cocks her head. When Lucretia listens, she can hear marching footsteps down the hall too. Her chest is cold with fear. Her muscles are cramped from the position her chains force her into if she wants to be able to see Lup -- half crouching, half kneeling on the grimy floor. Lup grins ferociously, more a baring of teeth than anything else. “I’ve got a feeling I’m not gonna find out either way.”

When they take Lup away, wobbling on unsteady feet but straight-shouldered, Lucretia can hear her whistling all the way down the hallway. After about twenty seconds, the whistling stops.

 

“You know,” Kravitz confides, “I was terrified when Taako first asked me to look after you.”

“I don’t need looking after, sir,” Angus says, “but I’m not complaining.” He drinks some more of his smoothie. Neither Kravitz nor Taako is a hundred percent sure how human ages work, but Angus is not ashamed to admit that he’s enjoying the crazy straw.

“Well, thank you,” Kravitz says. “I’m not sure what I was so worried about. You’re sensible and interesting -- and you don’t ask me questions like what dying feels like.”

“Oh, well, I know that already,” Angus says.

“Uh -- excuse me?” Kravitz says.

“I mean, I’ve never died personally,” Angus says, quickly. He forgets sometimes how things sound. “Obviously. But I read about it.”

“Where?” Kravitz says, still clearly taken aback.

“Oh, you know,” Angus says. “I investigate a lot of murders, and I think it’s useful to understand as many sides of the story as possible.” 

“As long as you haven’t been summoning anything,” Kravitz says. Angus shakes his head and Kravitz breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank the gods,” he says. “Do you have any idea what Taako would do to me if you got involved in even a hint of necromancy?”

“Barry says you can’t get arrested for it as long as you tell everyone you’re only working with theory,” Angus says. 

“Mm,” Kravitz says, looking weary but unsurprised. “Barry’s serving time to a goddess for disobeying divine laws, so maybe he’s not the most reliable source.”

 

Lucretia never would have heard it if she hadn’t fallen asleep on the couch. There are choked off sobs coming from behind the door to the command. Still bleary from sleep, she follows the sound. At this point in their journey, everyone’s cried enough for Lucretia to be able to identify her crewmates on half a sob -- but this doesn’t sound as familiar.

Davenport sits behind the wheel, face resting in his hands. His head jerks up when he hears her enter. “Oh -- Lucretia. Did you need something?”

“No,” Lucretia says. “I’m alright. Are you?”

“Yes,” Davenport says, exhaling the word. “It’s late, that’s all, and I’ve had a little much to drink.” He waves a hand. “Embarrassed, but fine.”

If that’s what he wants her to believe, she’ll go with it. “Alright,” she says. “Maybe you should head to bed soon, huh?”

He snorts. “Don’t patronize me, Lucretia,” he says. 

Lucretia leans on one of the chairs. “If you don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you, I’ll patronize you all I want.”

“Been spending time with Taako, huh?” he says. “Two can play at that game.” He pours himself some more wine.

“It’s Merle, isn’t it,” Lucretia says. It’s not a question.

“It’s… everything,” Davenport says. “Our escapes have been narrower lately, and we’re no closer to coming up with a plan and everyone is exhausted. I think it’s finally starting to dawn on them how long this might take. If we make it at all.”

Lucretia has no doubt that he wouldn’t be saying this if he were sober. Davenport is tight-lipped and tense often, but she’s never seen him this upfront about the mission. “I’m sorry,” she says.

“I don’t know how to lead you,” Davenport says. She gets the feeling he’s not really talking to her. “This wasn’t covered in the fucking regulations. And Merle--” He finishes his glass. “Merle is gone.”

“Not forever,” Lucretia says. It’s what she keeps telling herself whenever one of them is dead.

“You sure?” Davenport says. “Because it sure doesn’t feel like that sometimes.” He goes to set the nearly-empty bottle back beside him, but it slips off the edge and crashes against the ground. The few ounces of remaining wine spill across the floor. “Fuck,” Davenport says, toneless.

“I’ll clean it up,” Lucretia says, standing. “Let me get it. Go get some rest, Captain. Please.”

Davenport stares at the broken glass. “Okay,” he says, after a long pause. “Thank you, Lucretia. I-- Thank you.” He steps over the glass and towards the door. 

“Captain,” Lucretia says. He stops and turns back. “It’s okay if you don’t know what you’re doing. None of us think any less of you.”

Davenport’s shoulders drop. “Thank you,” he repeats, even more quietly, and he turns away. 

 

The thing about living in a dorm by yourself when you’re ten is that there’s no one to tell you to go to bed. It used to be that Angus only let himself stay up late reading on special occasions -- or when the only person who could make him feel better was Caleb Cleveland.

Now, it feels like a defeat when he turns off the light at only midnight, eyes stinging from tiredness. 

He hasn’t talked to Lucretia in a while. He wonders if he should. He would worry she was avoiding him if he didn’t think she was probably avoiding everyone. 

 

“I’m okay,” Magnus breathes. He grits out a smile. He’s missing a tooth, his second left incisor on the top. He looks like a goddamn second grader. “You’re just gonna have to help me up when they come to take me.”

“You’re not going, Magnus,” Davenport says. “I am.”

Lucretia, Magnus, and Barry exclaim in protest at once.

“Captain,” Barry says, in his trying-to-be-reasonable voice. “We’ve seen what those currents do to anyone under a hundred pounds. You’ll die right away.”

“Yeah,” Magnus says. “Honestly, Cap, they’ll just come get another one of us.” He struggles to push himself up onto an elbow; Lucretia and Barry both immediately push him back down. “This is my job. This is what you hired me for.”

“We’re past jobs,” Davenport says, face grim. “Your job is not to die for us.”

“Yes, it--” Magnus begins, but Barry interrupts him.

“Magnus, with your injuries, you’re probably less likely to survive than Davenport,” he says. “You have to send me. It’s the only choice that makes sense.”

“But we won’t know where the Light is without your research,” Lucretia says. “This whole mission will have been for nothing.”

“Lup can probably do it by herself,” Barry says, but even he sounds doubtful. 

“Lucretia’s right,” Davenport says. “Just last week you told me that you and Lup were doing a ten person job. That’s a lot to put on one researcher. We can’t risk a whole plane.”

“I’ll--” Magnus tries again, but Lucretia holds up a hand. 

“I’ll go,” she says. “Captain, you know it makes sense.”

“No,” Magnus says. “No way.”

“Captain,” Lucretia repeats. 

Davenport drags a hand down his face. “You know what you’re signing up for?” 

“Yes. I can do it.” She looks down at the three faces tilted up at her: Magnus, lying bloody on his back and frowning furiously, Barry, crouched beside him, drawn and miserable, and Davenport, brow furrowed. Lucretia has known them more than three decades and she’s never seen that look on the captain’s face.

Angus wakes from the dream abruptly. Lucretia had stopped writing there. 

 

Angus falls asleep at Taako’s house one night, three months after the Day of Story and Song. He doesn’t mean to, but he’s warm and full of food and the couch is criminally comfortable.

When he wakes up shaking, it’s to Taako’s hands on his shoulders. Angus pushes himself forward into Taako’s, panicking slightly at the difficulty of the movement. He realizes a moment later that it was the thick blanket pulling him down. He buries his face in Taako’s neck. Taako still smells faintly of sweet perfume.

“It’s alright, pumpkin,” Taako murmurs in Angus’s ear. His voice is rough from sleep and Angus feels awful for waking him up. “It’s okay, it wasn’t real, it was just a dream. It wasn’t real.”

“Yes, it was,” Angus sobs. “You froze to death and they thought they could save Magnus because he was still alive when they found you but they couldn’t get him warm enough and--” He breaks off, out of breath.

Taako pulls back slightly to look at him, eyebrows drawn down. He looks different in the low light, softer and more tired, and it takes Angus a moment to realize that he’s not wearing his usual Disguise Self. “How do you know about that?” he asks. 

“Madam Director wrote about it,” Angus says. He thought it would be obvious. “It was broadcast to everyone -- doesn’t everyone know?”

“I don’t think anyone listened as hard as you did, kid,” Taako says. He hasn’t stopped frowning, but he doesn’t look upset. “Come with me.” 

Angus follows him into the kitchen. The remains of the gathering are still strewn about the room; bottles, plates, glasses, and napkins. The piano is open; Angus is sorry to have missed a performance from Barry. 

Taako pulls something out from a cabinet and goes over to the faucet. Angus peers after him. “What are you doing?”

“Hot water bottle,” Taako says. He closes the top and hands it to Angus, already magically warmed. Angus hugs it to his chest. “You’re gonna want that. C’mon.”

Angus trails him down the hall, hesitating when Taako opens the door to his bedroom. “Sir?”

“Hop in, kid,” Taako says. 

“In bed?” Angus says. He can see the shape of Kravitz’s back underneath the comforter. 

“Unless you would rather sleep on the couch,” Taako says. He stretches his arms above his head, then climbs into bed beside Kravitz. Angus follows him, pushing himself up onto the mattress and settling down. The hot water bottle has warmed him through his chest and calmed his breathing. Very carefully, he lies down against Taako’s side.

A moment later, he feels Taako’s hand running over his hair. “Don’t think you got out of this discussion,” Taako says. He yawns. “We’ll find you someone to talk to. Tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Angus whispers. The comforter that Taako pulls over them is heavy, but not confining. Angus’s leftover adrenaline is fading fast. He holds the hot water bottle closer. “Goodnight, sir.”

He doesn’t hear Taako’s response. He doesn’t dream. 

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on tumblr @mcgonagollygee


End file.
